


Some Things I Just Can't Do

by waitineedaname



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Office Party, Tim Gives Jon Advice Because He Has The Heart Of A Saint, ambiguous timsasha in the background, specifically in Medieval literature bc I like Medieval literature, they work at a normal academic institution, they're all neurodivergent bc I said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitineedaname/pseuds/waitineedaname
Summary: Office parties weren’t really his thing. He only knew maybe half a dozen of his coworkers, and most of them were people he saw on a daily basis anyway, so he didn’t see the point. He could get buzzed and feel awkward in the comfort of his home, he didn’t need to go out of his way for it.But Martin had looked so hopeful. Maybe it would be good for him to take a break for once. And perhaps, in a context outside of work hours, he could… talk to Martin.A glimmer of a solution appeared in his brain, and he grimaced. If he was going to be “talking” to Martin, he needed help. Unfortunately, there was only one person who might be able to help him.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 31
Kudos: 287





	Some Things I Just Can't Do

**Author's Note:**

> when I started listening to tma, I had three tma themed dreams. two were nightmares, and then one was a dream where they were having an office party and Jon for some reason asked Tim to teach him to flirt and he looked too pitiful for Tim to say no
> 
> naturally, upon waking up, I found this dream so hilarious that I couldn't get it out of my mind, and now here we are. so help me god, I will make Jon and Tim friends even if they hate it
> 
> title from Haiku by Tally Hall because the idea of Jon struggling to write a haiku for Martin makes me happy

Jon never intended to let his work inbox get out of hand. Every week, he would promise to himself that he would stay on top of his work emails, and then he would find himself digging through five hundred emails and cursing the invention of the “Reply All” feature. Yes, Percy, it is exciting that you have purchased five goats and will be using them to take care of your lawn while on paternity leave, but considering you work in a completely different department and have never spoken more than a dozen words to Jon, did he really need to be CC'd on it?

He had just clicked on an invitation to an institute-wide holiday party when Martin poked his head through the doorway.

“Hey,” Martin smiled at him. Jon hummed in response, skimming the email, “I brought you some tea.”

“Oh. Thank you, Martin.” He sat back so Martin could place the still steaming mug on an uncluttered patch of his desk. “I  _ have  _ said that you don’t need to make me tea, you know.”

“I know. I just happened to boil too much water.” Martin shrugged, and the lie would almost be convincing if he hadn’t said the same thing every other time he’d brought tea for the past several months. Jon snorted softly and pulled the mug towards himself.

“Of course.” He didn’t bother pushing the matter, knowing it to be a lost cause at this point. At least Martin made damn good tea, even if his impatience led him to burn his tongue on it and then forget about it until it was ice cold hours later. Martin didn’t leave immediately, instead glancing at his computer screen.

“Oh! Are you going to the holiday party?” 

“Hm? Oh, probably not. I found this damn fragment of a lai filed incorrectly among the wrong manuscripts, so I’m probably going to spend this weekend comparing it to the other lais on file to try and get a sense of who the poet might be.” He didn’t process the way Martin’s face had risen in excitement and then fallen at his response until the words were out of his mouth. He swallowed. “Er. But I could possibly find time.”

“Well, if you asked for my advice, I’d say the poem can wait. I mean, it’s been centuries, I think you can afford to have fun for  _ one  _ night.”

“I  _ didn’t  _ ask for your advice,” Jon snapped as more of a reflex than anything, and then bit his tongue in regret, “...But I will keep that in mind.”

Martin gave him a tight smile. “I should probably let you get back to work.”

“Yes.”

“Just… think about the party, maybe?” Martin was already halfway out the door. Jon sighed.

“I will.” Jon frowned into the depths of his tea as the door clicked shut. He really was trying to be nicer to Martin. It wasn’t Martin’s fault he was, as Georgie had so pleasantly put it once, “an asshole first and a person second.” It wasn’t Martin’s fault he made an easier target than their other coworkers, and it certainly wasn’t Martin’s fault it had taken him as long as it had to realize Martin had feelings for him.

He couldn’t even take credit for that revelation. It had taken pointed teasing from Tim, Sasha, and even their  _ boss _ on top nearly a year of pining from Martin’s end, and even then it hadn’t gotten through his thick skull until Georgie had swung by to drop off old college photos she’d unearthed in the back of her closet and mentioned in passing after a brief interaction with Martin that “you realize that poor boy is in love with you, right?”

He hadn’t realized, in fact. That particular bombshell was quite frankly alarming when he considered the way he’d been treating Martin the whole time they’d been working together. Which, of course, prompted Georgie to inform him where he stood vis a vis an asshole and a person. Really, where would he be without her to keep him humble.

So, he’d been trying to be nicer to Martin. Trying to control his short-temper, trying to actually listen when Martin spoke, trying to thank him for what he did more often. In the process, well… he discovered Martin was a lot more than he’d given him credit for. And try as he might to deny it, he had developed feelings for Martin in the process.

Which is why he stared at the holiday party invitation on his screen instead of simply deleting it. Office parties weren’t really his thing. He only knew maybe half a dozen of his coworkers, and most of them were people he saw on a daily basis anyway, so he didn’t see the point. He could get buzzed and feel awkward in the comfort of his home, he didn’t need to go out of his way for it. 

But Martin had looked so hopeful. Maybe it  _ would  _ be good for him to take a break for once. And perhaps, in a context outside of work hours, he could…  _ talk  _ to Martin.

A glimmer of a solution appeared in his brain, and he grimaced. If he was going to be “talking” to Martin, he needed help. Unfortunately, there was only one person who might be able to help him.

It was just after the work day ended that Jon saw his chance. Martin had already gone home, and Sasha was one chat with Rosie away from leaving too. Tim had stayed a few minutes later than usual to finish up a piece of research, and Jon took advantage of the empty room to interrupt Tim packing up to leave. 

“Tim? Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Yeah, boss?” Tim glanced up from his computer as he logged out. “I’m not in trouble, am I? Look, if this is about the break room sink, that was Sasha’s doing, not mine.”

“No, it- What happened to the sink?” Jon asked, bewildered.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Tim pulled on his jacket and flashed Jon a winning smile, as if that would absolve him of whatever crime he and Sasha had committed in the break room. "What did you need?"

Jon's mouth twisted in annoyance, but he decided to pick his battles. "Are you going to the holiday party?"

"Yeah, obviously. Why would I pass up the chance to see my coworkers be drunk and embarrassing?" The annoyed twist on Jon's face deepened, which, of course, Tim noticed. “Oh come on, that’s the whole appeal of office parties, isn’t it? Getting to see your coworkers loosen up just the  _ slightest  _ bit? It’s not like you have anything to worry about, you never go to these things.”

“Yes, well. I’m considering going to this one.” Jon resisted the urge to squirm under Tim’s surprised gaze. “Per Martin’s request.”

“... _ Right.” _ Tim still looked incredulous, but shrugged and smiled. “The more the merrier, I guess. I’m still not sure why you’re telling me.”

“I need your…” Jon gestured vaguely, not entirely sure what to say, “...guidance.”

“...Okay… On what, picking out an ugly sweater? How many drinks is too many in front of your boss?”

“I was wondering if you could teach me how to… talk to people at parties.” Jon winced at his own wording, and Tim’s eyebrows were finding a home in his hairline.

“You want me to teach you how to  _ talk  _ to people?” Tim’s expression was somewhere between complete bewilderment and brimming amusement. “Jon, I know you don’t like parties, but I’m fairly certain you can figure out how to talk to your coworkers. And if you can’t, I really don’t think I’m the one that can teach you.”

“No, not talking.” Jon groaned. Every single word caused physical pain to his pride. “I’ve heard you’re good at-” God, he wanted to melt into the floor, “ _ -wooing _ people.”

Tim was staring at him like he’d grown two heads and they were all reciting Shakespeare, “...Oh. Oh!  _ Right!” _ The wheels were quite obviously turning in Tim’s head, and delight grew on his face. “Oh my god. Is it Martin?”

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.” Jon deflected, deeply embarrassed.

“You kind of made it my business by asking me to  _ teach you how to flirt.” _ Tim clearly had already come to the conclusion that the answer to his question was  _ yes _ , and his grin was a mile wide. “I can’t believe I owe Sasha ten pounds. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Jon frowned, displeased that not only were his coworkers betting on his romantic life, but that Tim had apparently bet  _ against  _ him. Tim was still chuckling to himself as he finished packing up.

“Look, as hilarious as this is -- and trust me, I will be riding the high of this for the rest of the week -- I kind of already had plans tonight that weren’t giving my boss a flirting workshop.” Tim said, hefting his bag onto his shoulder. “Sorry, Jon.”

Jon wilted, shame swirling in his stomach. He should have known better than to assume Tim would be willing to help with  _ this  _ of all things. “Of course. It- It was out of line for me to ask, you’re right. I- I’ll figure it out myself. Have a nice night, Tim.”

He turned to leave, but he was only halfway through the doorway when he heard Tim heave a sigh. “Wait.” Jon stopped and looked back to find Tim looking like he was already regretting what he was about to say. “I’ll help.”

“Oh! Tha-”

“Only because you looked so damn pitiful, and I have the heart of a saint.”

“Oh.”

“Come on.” Tim strode over and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re buying me drinks.”

Before Jon knew it, the two of them were seated at the bar of a pub just a few blocks away with moderately priced pints of beer in front of them. Jon thought about how it was polite of Tim to not order something more expensive in an effort to avoid thinking about what they were there for. Tim stopped chatting with the bartender to let her serve other customers and took a sip of his beer. Jon did the same, hoping to calm his nerves.

“So,” Tim said, smacking his lips, “You’re trying to get into Martin’s pants.”

Jon promptly choked on his beer. Tim raised an eyebrow at him.

“What, are you not trying to sleep with him?”

“No! God no.” Jon blurted out before he could think about it. Tim’s expression turned into one of slightly defensive confusion.

“Then wh-” Anger flashed across his face as a thought occurred to him. “This isn’t some kind of prank, is it? You’re not just toying with Martin’s emotions, are you? Because I know he kind of makes himself an easy target, but he’s a nice kid, and I won’t be complicit in bullying.”

“That’s not it at all!” Jon insisted. Tim didn’t look convinced. “I just- I don’t-” He floundered. “I’m asexual. Getting into  _ anyone’s  _ pants isn’t really something I want to do.”

“Oh.” Tim processed that and looked marginally less like he was about to physically fight Jon for Martin’s honor. “Alright. So, you’re seducing him romantically, then?”

“That’s the plan, at least.” Jon sighed forlornly into his beer. Tim huffed out a laugh and squeezed his shoulder, joviality returned.

“Come on, no need to get all doom and gloom already.” Tim teased. “Honestly, my flirting advice doesn’t really change that much in this scenario. I’m fairly certain the way to Martin’s pants is through his heart.”

Jon crinkled his nose. “Well? Share your wisdom, oh wise muse of coworker courting.”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Way better than being called an office slut.” Tim hid his laugh in his drink when Jon glared at him. “Alright, alright. Look, everyone’s got something they have a weakness for. Some people respond well to compliments on their appearance or their fashion, some people like shitty pick-up lines, some people just want someone who’s really listening to them. You just have to figure out what someone wants.”

“And I wouldn’t suppose you have any idea what that means for Martin?”

“Come on, I can’t just tell you. That’s cheating.” 

“I don’t think it’s cheating to give someone what they need to  _ start _ .” Jon muttered sullenly. Tim hummed.

“Guess not. You are kinda dense. It’d be like playing poker without giving someone any cards.” 

“This metaphor is getting out of hand.”

“What hand? You don’t have any cards yet.” Tim dodged the toothpick Jon threw at him and laughed. “That was the last one, I promise!”

“Just  _ tell  _ me. I’m already regretting this enough as it is.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim sighed and thought for a moment. “Martin strikes me as the type to want someone to pay attention to him. Like  _ really  _ pay attention. You know, someone that listens to him and takes him seriously and engages with what he’s saying. Someone who remembers what he likes and asks him about it. He likes to be remembered and sought out, as opposed to being brushed aside and ignored.”

That stung Jon a little as he yet again remembered how poorly he’d treated Martin when they first began working together. Tim wasn’t wrong, though. Not in the slightest. Tim nudged him gently.

“C’mon. Pop quiz. What’re Martin’s interests? Outside of making tea and giving excellent hugs.”

Jon wracked his mind for details Martin had mentioned in passing. “He… likes poetry. Specifically the Romantics. Why he’s working with us Medievalists is a mystery to me. He’s a dog person, but he’ll coo at anything fluffy, including spiders, the madman. His music taste is... indie and obscure.”

“You really have no room to judge when it comes to obscure music. Sasha’s shown me your Spotify.” Tim teased, giving him a smile. “Keep going. What do you like about him?”

“He…” Jon trailed off and bit back his embarrassment. “He’s kind. He’s remarkably hardworking. He… I initially thought he was a bit of a doormat, but he’s not. Is it weird that I enjoyed seeing him argue with Elias about his work?”

“Not at all. I love watching people yell at Elias.” Tim grinned.

“It was more than that, though. It was seeing him stand up for himself.” Jon sighed. “And… And it’s a thousand other things. It’s the way he smiles at his phone when he sees something nice and thinks no one else is looking. It’s the way he becomes entirely focused on something he cares about -- even though he often does  _ not  _ give his work the same level of attention. It’s the way he handwrites his annotations on whatever he’s researching, and the way he’s so polite over the phone, even when the person on the other end is clearly making things difficult for him. It’s the clothes he wears, the sweaters that hug his shoulders and the scarves he tucks his face into... Everything, it’s everything.” 

Jon’s cheeks flooded with embarrassment as he realized all he’d just said. He looked over and found Tim giving him an impossibly smug look. “You, Jonathan Sims,” Tim declared, lifting his drink in a toast, “are absolutely besotted.”

Jon groaned and buried his face in his hands. 

“No, that’s a good thing!” Tim laughed, shoving at his shoulder. “Martin’s been absolutely head over heels for you for ages. It’s good to see you’re just as badly off.”

“I have not been drunk enough for any of this conversation.” Jon said, lifting his face off his hands to take a long drink of his beer. Tim snorted.

“I’ll make sure to call you a cab, boss.”

Tim did in fact call him a cab later that night, and Jon awoke the next morning with a splitting headache. Were it not for the advice Tim had been able to give him, he would be wishing death upon his coworker for inflicting such a hangover on a Friday morning. He managed to bring it under enough control to make it through work that morning, though thinking less about his headache meant thinking more about the holiday party. 

Tim’s advice kept circling around his head whenever he tried to focus on his work. It made sense. Martin had always brightened significantly whenever Jon remembered a personal detail he’d mentioned, and he’d been happily surprised when Tim and Sasha had started to include him in their office shenanigans. He definitely liked it when people paid attention to him, and he never seemed to expect it. It shouldn’t be  _ that  _ hard to just _ pay attention  _ to Martin. Actually  _ vocalizing  _ his attention would be a little harder, but not impossible. 

It’s just… It had been a long time since he had made a concerted effort to court someone, and it wasn’t like he had ever been particularly good at it. Most of his past relationships had been accidental in nature, just the result of sliding from platonic to romantic without really realizing what was happening.  _ Intentionally  _ pursuing romance was an entirely different beast. 

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that Tim’s comment about the break room sink completely escaped his mind when he went to fill his now empty mug with water. He was entirely unprepared for the spray nozzle to drench him the moment he turned the faucet handle, and the shout that erupted out of him was somewhat less than dignified. 

When he left the breakroom, sopping wet, he found his coworkers in varying states of restrained hysterics, from Tim doubled over on his desk laughing into his arms, to Sasha putting on a show of concern that would almost be convincing if her eyes weren’t sparkling with mirth. Martin, to his credit, was somewhere between their reactions, biting his lower lip to hold back a smile and shoulders shaking lightly with silent laughter. Despite his annoyance, Jon had to admit it was kind of adorable.

“Oh, Jon,” Sasha’s voice was full of sympathy, though it shook with a restrained laugh, “Did you lose a fight with the faucet?”

“Very funny. It seems someone forgot their hair elastic around the spray nozzle.” Jon tossed the slightly damp hair tie at her, and she looked at it with faux surprise. 

“I’ve been looking for that everywhere. I wonder how it ended up there!” She said innocently, using the elastic to tie back her braids. 

“What a mystery.” Jon rolled his eyes and sighed, patting himself down with a towel stolen from the break room. God, he was absolutely drenched. It was going to be miserable sitting around like a wet cat for the rest of the afternoon. 

“Hey, boss,” Jon glanced up at Tim’s voice and found he’d composed himself somewhat, though amusement was still written on his face, “Have you taken your lunch break?”

“I-...” Had he? Oh lord, when did it become 4pm? “No, I haven’t.”

“Great.” Tim shut his laptop and stood. “You and I are leaving early.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going to your place to pick out an outfit for the party tonight.” Tim grinned. “Unless you want to spend the rest of the day in wet clothes?”

No. No, he did not want that. Martin perked up at his desk.

“You’re going to the party?” Martin said, unsubtly hopeful.

“Y-Yes, well- I- I looked at my schedule and realized I could spare a few hours.” Jon stammered, ignoring Tim and Sasha’s matching smug expressions out of the corner of his eyes. “You did say I could probably afford to… take a break for once, so…” 

“I did say that.” Martin looked remarkably pleased. A silent beat passed between them, and Tim cleared his throat.

“What d’you say, boss? Are you going to let me dress you up?”

Jon sighed. “Yes, I suppose. Just let me grab my things.” He said, ducking back into his office to grab his keys.

“We’ll see you kids in a couple hours.” He heard Tim say in the other room, accompanied by an audible finger gun. Martin’s chuckle made Jon’s heart flutter in a frustrating manner. 

“We promise not to get into any trouble without you,” came Sasha’s fond response.

“Thanks, Sash, I appreciate it.”

“If you don’t see either of us in a couple hours, please assume we were left alone together for too long and decided to kill each other.” Jon said, reentering the room.

“I’ll make sure to alert the authorities.” Sasha nodded very solemnly, and Martin choked back a snort. Jon’s mouth twitched as he tried not to smile. Tim slung his arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

“Alright, no more procrastinating. I want to see our dear archivist’s lavish digs.”

Jon was impossibly relieved his flat wasn’t at its worst state of disarray. There were a few books that had not made it back to their proper places on his bookshelf after he’d gotten distracted halfway through reading them, and there were a few forgotten cups on his coffee table, but the sink was blessedly not full of dirty dishes and the floor was navigable. Tim certainly didn’t seem to mind and other than an amused snort at the fact that the only movies next to his TV were the boxed set of Lord of the Rings films, he more or less ignored the room and its contents in favor of following Jon to his room. 

“Hope HR doesn’t hear I’m in my boss’s bedroom.” Tim joked. Jon sent him a withering look. “Kidding! Sheesh.”

“I’m still not entirely certain why you had to accompany me to get changed. I can dress myself.”

“Yeah, but the outfits you pick out are boring.”

“I dress  _ professionally.” _

“Jon, you dress like my grandmother, which is fine when your day job is what it is, but if you’re going to be sweeping Martin off his feet, you have to step it up a notch.” Tim pointed in the direction of his closet. “Can I?”

Jon sighed, giving up. “If you must.”

Tim strode over and began looking through Jon’s clothes, while Jon did his best to stamp down his discomfort with allowing someone to look through his things. Most of the clothes hanging in the closet were subdued button-downs that he cycled through for work, though Tim paused when he came across a shirt tucked into the back of the pack.

“Do you have a sidegig as a pirate?” Tim asked, pulling out a familiar loose shirt and vest combination covered in useless belts. 

“Space pirate, actually.” Jon reached into the corner of the closet and found the fake gun and holster he’d stored back there. Tim’s confusion was comical, and Jon couldn’t help but grin a bit. “Though I doubt showing up in the persona of an immortal cannibal is workplace appropriate.”

“You-  _ What?” _ Tim shook his head. “No, you know what, I won’t ask. You’re going to have to explain that at some point, just not right now.”

Jon shrugged and didn’t argue. Eventually Tim settled on a dark green sweater he deemed flattering and a pair of maroon slacks that Jon had quite frankly forgotten he owned.

“Right, so we’ve got just enough time before the party if you want to take a shower or do something with your hair.”

“My hair?” Jon said incredulously. “What would I do with my hair?”

“I don’t know? It’s long and I know Martin likes it, though, so you should probably do something with it.” 

Jon blinked at him. “Did-... Did Martin tell you that?”

“Maybe once or twice.” Tim winked like he was sharing a secret -- which perhaps he was -- and picked up his bag. “Would you rather I get changed out here or in the bathroom?”

“Oh! I’ll take the bathroom.” He grabbed his clothes and ducked into the bathroom before he could think too long about Martin apparently telling Tim what he liked about him. 

He had to admit it, the outfit Tim picked out did look good on him. After a few minutes of fussing, he decided to let his hair out of the haphazard bun it often ended up in by the end of the day, and he ran a brush through it a couple times. Satisfied that it looked as nice and fluffy as he could make it on such short notice, he called through the door to Tim, “Are you decent?”

“I’m always decent, boss!” Jon took that as a yes and walked back out into his room. Tim was wearing a sweater with a floral design on it, and he glanced up from scrolling through Twitter on his phone. A smile spread across his face. “Aw, look at you! You won’t even have to flirt with Martin looking this nice.”

“Shut up, Tim.” Jon said as more of a reflex than anything. “Should we go to the party now?”

“Yeah, we’ve killed enough time, I guess. You don’t strike me as the type to want to be fashionably late.” 

By the time they were taking the elevator up to the floor hosting the party, Jon was wishing he  _ was  _ the type to be fashionably late. In fact, he wished he was so late he didn’t have to go at all. God, this was a bad idea, what was he thinking?

Tim interrupted his spiraling by putting a hand on his shoulder. Jon looked over and found Tim giving him a kind look. “Hey.” Tim said.

“What?”

“You’ve got this, alright? He’s already head over heels for you. Even you can’t mess this up that bad.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Jon snarked, though he was slightly comforted by Tim’s encouragement. Tim grinned.

“Any time.” Tim half shoved him into the large room the party had been set up in, and they paused for a moment, looking for anyone they recognized. Tim was the one to spot Martin idling by the dessert table, chatting with someone from the library, and he pointed him out to Jon. “Alright, I’m going to bug Sasha. Go get him, tiger.” 

Jon was too nervous to even glare at him before walking what felt like an enormous trek across the room to Martin. He noticed Martin glancing around the room as he talked to their coworker, and his whole face lit up when he saw Jon, which sent another swirl of anxiety through him.

“Jon!” Martin waved him over and their coworker politely excused themself upon realizing Martin’s attention was clearly elsewhere. Martin smiled broadly at him when he walked up. “You made it.”

“Of course I made it.” Jon said, defensively snappy. He fidgeted in his sweater. “Tim luckily wasn’t infuriating enough to warrant random murder, so. Here I am.”

It wasn’t particularly funny, but Martin chuckled softly anyway. “You, uh. You look nice.” There was a shy smile on his face.

“Oh, um. Thank you. You do as well.” Jon tried not to ogle Martin in the baby blue sweater he’d adorned, and then realized ogling would probably help if he was attempting to make his feelings known tonight. Martin looked pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you!” There was a beat of awkward silence. Martin took a sip from the drink in his hands and Jon picked up a biscuit off the dessert table just to have something to hold to keep him from fidgeting so damn badly. He was wracking his brains to think of something to talk about when Martin broke the silence with an annoyed sigh. Jon looked up, panicked that he might have done something wrong, and instead found Martin looking somewhere over his shoulder. “Tim and Sasha are staring.”

Jon glanced back and found the pair of them across the room, not even trying to hide the fact that they were watching them. Sasha grinned and waved at them, and both he and Martin awkwardly waved back. Tim ducked down to say something in Sasha’s ear, and Sasha threw her head back to laugh, shoving at his chest playfully.

“He’s really got it bad for her.” Martin said, startling Jon.

“What?”

“Look at how he looks at her.” Martin gestured at their friends, who were now entirely focused on each other. Sasha seemed to be telling a story or an elaborate joke, throwing herself into it with the flair of a former theater kid. Tim was watching her with the softest smile Jon had ever seen him wear, and he looked… what was the phrase he’d used to describe Jon last night?

“Absolutely besotted.” Jon said, and Martin let out a short laugh.

“He is! You know, he likes to act like he’s such a flirt, but I’m pretty sure he just plays it up for laughs. As far as I can tell, he catches feelings really badly.” Martin’s tone was so matter-of-fact that it surprised Jon, though he followed it up with a mutter of, “Though I guess I have no room to judge,” and an awkward cough. Jon stared at him and tipped his head quizzically.

“You seem to know quite a lot of office gossip.” He said.

“Um, I guess?” Martin shrugged. “People like to talk to me about it.”

“Well, you’re a good listener.” Jon tried not to shy away under the doubtful look Martin sent him.

“You think so? You always say I don’t listen enough when I’m getting assignments.”

“Both statements can be true.” Jon said, defensively. “You- You’re good at listening when it comes to personal matters.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” Martin smiled, looking surprised and pleased. 

“I’m… not very good at it.”

“What, at office gossip or listening to people?” Martin teased. Jon winced.

“Er… both? It doesn’t come easily to me, either of them.”

“I know, Jon.” Martin’s expression was more fond than he deserved. “It’s okay.”

“I’m trying to get better at it, though! The- listening, I mean. I couldn’t give a damn about office gossip.” He added, and Martin laughed a little. “I’ve been told I’m… I’m rather dense when it comes to other people. Particularly other people’s feelings.”

“Uh-huh…?” Martin said cautiously, clearly unsure where he was going with this. Jon wasn’t even sure where he was going with this. Whatever scraps of a plan for seducing Martin he’d formed with Tim had been thrown out the window at this point.

“But I’m trying to become more aware of other people’s feelings. Especially the people I care about. Like- Well, like you.” He struggled to make eye contact at the best of times, but when he forced himself to look directly at Martin, he discovered Martin looked vaguely like his soul had left his body. He wasn’t quite sure whether that was a good thing.

“Oh?” was all Martin said.

“Yes. I… I was not kind to you, Martin, the first several months we worked together. I’m still not very kind to you, but I am trying to get better about that. It… It has come to my attention that I underestimated you. Quite badly. You are a lot more than I gave you credit for. You… You’re a very kind and hardworking man, and I apologize for how I treated you for so long.”

“Jon, you really don’t have to apologize.” 

“I do, though. You didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

“Well. Thank you, I guess.” Martin looked stunned, and a petulant part of Jon was insulted he would be so shocked to receive an apology from him. He stomped down that part of him and kept going.

“You know when Georgie came by to drop off those old pictures?”

“Yeah? You still haven’t shown us any of those, you know.”

“And I never will.” Jon said quickly. “Anyway. She was the one to bring it to my attention that I had been rather dense, when it came to you. When it came to how you felt.”

Martin looked somewhat alarmed again. "Wh- How I fel- I don't know what you might mean-"

"Martin." Jon cut him off, trying to calm him down despite his own nerves. "It's alright. I… I really didn’t know how you felt about me, but once I started actually paying attention, I realized… I realized I might feel the same. About you."

Martin’s eyes were the size of dinner plates. “And… how exactly do you feel?”

“I… I like you, Martin. I like you quite a bit. I’m not sure how to say it without sounding like a preteen.” Jon laughed self-deprecatingly and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is yet another thing I’m not particularly good at, I’m afraid. I haven’t tried to ask someone out in years.”

Martin made a noise akin to a deflating balloon. _ “Are _ you asking me out?”

“Yes? I’m trying to, at least. I thought we could get drinks, or coffee maybe? I- I seem to recall you liking that cafe, the one you said had good bibimbap, I believe?” Jon faltered, picking at the sleeve of his sweater anxiously.

“I hadn’t thought you would’ve remembered that.” Martin still seemed like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“I did say I was trying to listen more.” Jon reminded him, and he felt like he could finally breathe again when he saw Martin smile. 

“I guess you did.”

“...So is that a yes?”

“Oh!” Martin blinked and laughed, slightly embarrassed. “I- Yeah, of course! Sorry, I just- I didn’t really expect this.”

“Yes, well, you’re definitely not the only one who’s surprised.” Jon grimaced. “Apparently, our  _ dear  _ friends were placing bets on us, and Tim was betting  _ against  _ me, the bastard.”

“Sorry, did  _ everyone  _ know about this?” Martin looked alarmed.

“Everyone except me, apparently.” Jon smiled wryly.

“Christ.” Martin sighed, but he was smiling too, now. “I guess I’m not as aware of office gossip as I thought.”

“You’re still better off than I am.”

“That’s true. You know, Jon, for someone so smart, you’re really quite dense sometimes.”

“So I’ve been told.” Jon threw his hand in the air with exasperation, forgetting he was still holding a biscuit. A few crumbs landed in his hair, much to his disgruntlement, and Martin laughed, reaching over to brush them out. He then seemed to realize what he’d done, and they both froze, staring at each other awkwardly. Then Jon cleared his throat and the moment broke. “I should probably eat something other than this clearly structurally unsound biscuit.”

“I think they have a table with more filling food around here somewhere?”

“Lead the way.” 

They ended up sitting at a spare table with two plates full of cheese and fruit and other appetizers, and without quite remembering how he got on the topic, Jon was complaining about how holiday parties tried to appear secular, but they always ended up being Christmas parties, and really, why not a party for Hanukkah or Eid? Martin added an insightful comment or two in between bites of food, and when Tim and Sasha joined and brought their bright chatter to the table, it almost felt like a normal night, like the few times he’d allowed himself to be dragged out to drinks or lunch with the three of them.

Of course, normal nights didn’t typically end with Carrie from accounting loudly singing Christmas carols, but at that point, the four of them had had their fill of the party and didn’t mind leaving. They slipped out of the loud room as a group, and Tim was mumbling something about “neurodivergent gang, kings and queen of sensory overload,” making Sasha snicker, but Jon was far more focused on the handknit scarf Martin was bundling up in. He’d avoided drinking much at the party, not wanting to end up like some of his more intoxicated coworkers, but he was buzzed enough to have trouble drawing his mind away from how soft the scarf looked and how Martin’s dark curls got caught in it at the back of his neck and how he could just reach over and brush them out-

The sharp chill of the wind when they opened the front door was enough to slap some sense into him, and he grimaced in the face of the winter air. Tim and Sasha were a few steps ahead of them, Sasha leaning her head on Tim’s shoulder in a way that might be affectionate but might also be an attempt to shove him off the sidewalk. Jon and Martin lagged behind and Jon shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the cold. 

Attentive as always, Martin noticed. “Are you cold?”

“Hm? Oh, a bit. For some reason, Tim and I hadn’t thought to bring more than a jacket.” Jon shrugged. There was a shift next to him, and then something soft landing on his neck, making him startle. 

Martin, now scarfless, tensed. “Is that okay?”

Jon touched the scarf that lay around his shoulders. It was exactly as soft as he’d expected. He smiled a little. “It’s fine. Thank you, Martin.” Martin brightened considerably. “I’ll try to remember to return it on our date.” He said, and then added, stammering, “If you still want to go on one, of course.”

Martin huffed out a fond laugh. “Yeah, I still want to go. Does- Does 1:00 tomorrow work?”

“That sounds perfect.” Jon smiled up at him, now fidgeting with the loops of yarn at the end of the scarf. Martin’s grin was brighter than the sun itself. 

“Great! Cool. I- uh. My tube stop is this way, so…” He gestured over his shoulder, then waved a bit, “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” Jon nodded and waved back, watching Martin smile and turn to walk towards the Underground entrance. He hadn’t realized they’d caught up to where Tim and Sasha were waiting for a walk signal until he heard Sasha cooing behind him.

“I’m proud of you, Jon.” She said, grinning ear to ear. “I hope you know I always believed in you two. As opposed to  _ someone… _ ” She added, elbowing Tim, who squawked in offense. 

“I’m firing you both.” Jon said, matter-of-fact.

“No you’re not.” Sasha laughed. “You like having us around too much.”

“Yeah! You can’t fire me, I just got you a boyfriend!” Tim complained.

“Also, you don’t have the authority to fire us.”

“That too.”

Jon rolled his eyes and ignored them in favor of crossing the street. When he was certain the two of them had distracted themselves with a new topic of banter, he wrapped the scarf around his neck and tucked his face in its folds to hide his smile. The night hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, but for once, he couldn’t bring himself to complain. 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [waitineedaname](https://waitineedaname.tumblr.com/), come talk to me about tma and/or the mechs!!
> 
> I've got some other fic ideas in the works, next might be some Tim And Sasha Hanging Out because I care them


End file.
